


Would you stay if she promised you heaven?

by MuddlingAlong



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, F/F, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-09-22 10:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17058497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuddlingAlong/pseuds/MuddlingAlong
Summary: Vanity pre the girlfriends conversationCharity causes an argument, and refuses to solve itThis part is her favourite.Not that favourites are a thing after only four nights together.Of course not.But, if she were allowed favourites, then watching Vanessa spent, open, unafraid of her own nakedness, unabashed by her recent display of desire, that would definitely be her favourite.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've got so many half-finished stories in my drafts folder and I'm determined to get some of them up on here now I have some time off work.
> 
> They may not be great, but they're chattering away and I need to get them gone, so enjoy <3

“Jesus,” she gasps, collapsing onto her back, hair blown out all over the pillow.

 

Charity chuckles softly, watches Vanessa try to claw back some version of a steady breathing pattern. This part is her favourite. Not that favourites are a thing after only four nights together. 

 

Of course not. 

 

But, if she were allowed favourites, then watching Vanessa spent, open, unafraid of her own nakedness, unabashed by her recent display of desire, _that_ would definitely be her favourite. Watching reality tingle back to her limbs, finger by finger, toe by toe before it makes its way back to her brain and she remembers where she is. Watching her watch Charity, that slightly awestruck expression on her face.

 

“I mean I know I’m good,” Charity breathes, runs a teasing finger from the cleft of her chin, down her throat, down the hollow between her breasts, watches the muscles dance in its wake, “but calling me Jesus is going a bit far, isn’t it?”

 

With a roll of her eyes betrayed by a weary smile, Vanessa breathes “do you ever stop?” 

 

Charity wiggles her eyebrows and hums in that low voice that she knows reduces Vanessa’s cognitive ability by maybe eighty percent, “didn’t think you wanted me to, babe, in fact, I think your actual words were ‘oh, don’t stop, _God _, don’t stop-’” she tips her head back on the word ‘God’, her voice as loud as Vanessa’s had been earlier.__

 

__Vanessa reaches up and clasps a hand over Charity’s mouth desperately, her face wide with embarrassment and something more. It makes Charity’s stomach clench, deep and delicious as she looks into her eyes, challenging. She enjoys this, teasing the animal out of Vanessa. There’s no danger, just the thrill of the glint in Vanessa’s eye, the unravelling of something needy and carnal and without inhibition._ _

 

__Charity raises an eyebrow provocatively. Watches the shiver that ripples down Vanessa’s chest in response, feels the tiny tightening of the hand over her mouth._ _

 

__She nips lightly at the finger closest to her teeth, which is withdrawn suddenly, clasped back against her chest with an expression that is almost chagrin on her face._ _

 

__With a smirk, Charity flops onto her back. “You were louder than that earlier, babe, I think it’s a bit late trying to save our modesty now.”_ _

 

__Vanessa, blush hidden by the flush of their previous exertions, bites her lip. “Well, if you will insist on dragging it out so long…”_ _

 

__“Is that feedback?” Charity asks, fighting to keep the nonchalance in her voice, “if you’ve any complaints, I’m open to criticism.”_ _

 

__“NO,” Vanessa assures quickly, too quickly. A stupid gratified warmth floods through Charity’s limbs. “No, it’s fine, it’s great, _more_ than great, really.” She ushers in a deep breath, “not that- I just mean- oh never mind.” She wriggles, scrabbling at the covers and dragging them over her body. _ _

 

__Charity pouts at the loss, paws a finger lightly at the edge of the covers, but Vanessa pretends not to notice. She’d surprised herself when she’d invited Vanessa over this evening. The first time they’d slept together she’d told herself it was just an experiment, just boredom, just a suddenly overwhelming desire to feel Vanessa’s spine curl, her hands clench, her tongue dance - for the hell of it, she’d told herself. And she’d told herself afterwards that she was done chasing. She would wait, because she would come back. Surely she would come back for more._ _

 

__And until she caught herself watching Vanessa, stroppy nosed in her christening regalia, it had never really occurred to her that she wanted a repeat just as much as she knew Vanessa did. For, despite her constant denials, Charity knew that Vanessa _wanted _her.___ _

 

Not in the creepy blokey _I’m a catch therefore everyone should want to fuck me_ way, but in Vanessa’s blush every time she approached the bar for weeks, in her lovelorn gazing over the top of her pints, in her breathless greetings in the shop. It had been so obvious, so endearing, so unlike anything she has ever had from a potential partner before. 

 

____And Vanessa had wanted her tonight: if she was in the headspace to be worrying about it, she’d be mentally preparing herself for a day of huffy comments about ‘thin walls’ and ‘light sleepers’ from Chas and Paddy tomorrow._ _ _ _

 

____“Are you always that loud?” Charity enquires lightly, as if she were asking Vanessa if she took sugar in her tea. “Not that I’m complaining, mind, I like a bit of encouragement when I’m, you know-” she holds her hands up either side of her face and sticks her tongue out, making Vanessa squirm, “down under.”_ _ _ _

 

____“What? I don’t know, what sort of question is that?” Vanessa’s voice is a little too high, which Charity notices, shrugs, raises her eyebrows._ _ _ _

 

____“I don’t know, I’m interested. I never had you down as-” she trails off, blowing her hand into the air and letting it drop back against her hip._ _ _ _

 

____“As what?”_ _ _ _

 

____“I don’t know, I just- I just never had you down as a- _screamer_. Full of surprises, you.” _ _ _ _

 

____She tries to be seductive, looking down her nose in that smouldering way that always seemed to send men wild, but Vanessa balks, head tipping back on her neck, eyebrows so furrowed they practically touch._ _ _ _

 

____“And what _did_ you have me down for?” The air changes with the harshness of Vanessa’s voice, the rosy intimacy shifts into something more precarious, treacherous, prickling at Charity’s palms._ _ _ _

 

____She shrugs again, looks down, but Vanessa, like a dog with a bone, doesn’t drop it._ _ _ _

 

____“Seriously, what? What are you getting at?” She rolls over so she is on her side facing Charity, taking care to keep the sheets folded under her armpits, the naked abandon of two and a half minutes ago tucked away out of the firing line._ _ _ _

 

____“Nothing, babe, look, let’s just forget it,” she croons, reaching out to caress Vanessa’s waist, but her hand is knocked back, just short of painful._ _ _ _

 

____“What are you getting at, Charity?” Vanessa says again, her voice raised, and not in pleasure this time._ _ _ _

 

____Charity sits up and huffs out a large breath as if she’s being asked to do something she really doesn’t want to do. Which, to be fair, she is. She riles people up until they are forced into picking one of two reactions: a- leave, or b- kiss her until she shuts up. (There is a third option, but that’s reserved for a select group of people. She knows Vanessa well enough to know that there is no danger of that.) People don’t normally stay and try and figure things out._ _ _ _

 

____“Look, 'Ness, I only mean that you always seemed quite- buttoned up, you know? Like, I know there was whatsisface, Kirin, but there were always _rumours_ , you know? About- you, and- Rhona… I just thought, you know, _maybe she’s not getting what she needs_.”_ _ _ _

 

____It’s clearly not the right thing to have said. Vanessa freezes, eyes cold, the air turning even colder._ _ _ _

 

____“Fuck you.” Her words hit Charity square in the chest and she flinches, not sure why it hurts so much to hear such harshness from Vanessa. All she knows is she wants it to stop._ _ _ _

 

____Vanessa swings out of bed, roughly pulling on her shirt and jumper, not even noticing that it’s back to front. Her face is thunder._ _ _ _

 

____“Ness, wait, no I didn’t mean-” she stumbles over herself, not sure what it actually was she had meant to say, not sure how what she _had_ said had hurt Vanessa this much. Not sure why she’s practically begging her to stay, when _it doesn’t matter_._ _ _ _

 

____Vanessa pulls up her jeans, gathers up her underwear and shoves them in her pocket without paying any attention to what Charity’s saying. She makes for the door handle before she pauses and turns back, looking Charity straight in the face with a clarity that makes her shrink back._ _ _ _

 

____“You think you know me? Is that it? You were stuck with me in that cellar and saw some- some- closet case? You thought it was your duty to give some sad, sexually frustrated prude the shag of her life, who needs someone to show her what sex is really like?”_ _ _ _

 

____This is spinning out of control, Charity reaches out for Vanessa as if to claw back some of that comfort and easy familiarity from before, aware that with every word that comes out of her mouth it seems to drift further and further away._ _ _ _

 

____“No, Vanessa, that’s not what-”_ _ _ _

 

____“Because I’ve got news for you, Charity,” Vanessa hisses, leaning in close, her breath tickling Charity’s hair, “you’re not _all that_. I’ve had loads of sex, loads of really great sex with really great guys.” Charity can’t help raising her eyebrows at the way she under-pronounces ‘sex’, which only serves to fuel Vanessa’s fire._ _ _ _

 

____“I _have_ ,” she misunderstands, hissing with enough insistence to make Charity’s face behave, “and if your idea of being some kind of _lesbian saviour_ is seducing closeted women, outing them without their permission in front of their families and friends, and then taunting them about it when they make their way back to your bed,” Vanessa’s voice is rising again and Charity, finally, thinks of Chas in the next room, “well- that’s pretty _shit_ , if you ask me, not to mention offensive, and cruel.”_ _ _ _

 

____She turns on her heel and flounces out the room, making sure to slam the bedroom door shut behind her, leaving an echoing silence billowing out behind her._ _ _ _

 

____Charity stays still for a long minute, Vanessa’s words bouncing off the walls like in a pinball machine. She’d been expecting Vanessa to stay the night, had envisaged maybe another round, had been open to the idea of a post-sex snuggle, even._ _ _ _

 

____The room is cold, now, without Vanessa, and a small part of Charity, the small, bedraggled, neglected part of her where hope lives, knows that it’s not because of the lack of her bodily heat._ _ _ _

 

___ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, folks
> 
> Thank you to anybody who enjoyed my stories and who let me know in whatever way, you were a part of the happiness of my 2018.
> 
> I wish you all peace and happiness in 2019 <3

Charity sighs as the beer mat tower she’s built collapses for the umpteenth time. For this time on a Thursday evening the pub is drowsy, a few stragglers in the corners, but no one’s at the bar to make fun of, and Chas buggered off to bed hours ago. 

 

She checks her watch.

 

Eight o’clock.

 

Three hours left of this dreary, boring evening. 

 

This afternoon it had felt like a brilliant idea to give Chas the evening off when she’d asked on the off chance- some secret romantic evening with Paddy. She’s been trying to behave herself since the robbery debacle, plus the look of untempered surprise on Chas' face had been incredibly satisfying, and she’s looking forward to a whole week of playing up her selflessness, of having given up her evening off in an act of charity.

 

But actually, she’s deeply, deeply bored, and there’s no one but herself to blame.

 

On her night off she’d normally be out somewhere enjoying herself, with Moses in bed and Noah away in some fantasy video game land.

 

She’d be at a casino, not really to spend any money but to drink and to watch people, watch them seeped in desperation as they shakily place their fiftieth bet of the night, watch the inevitable downfall hit the cocky suit at the blackjack table like a rock to the head, as if losing had been the last thing he’d expected in a casino. 

 

Or in a bar, sometimes with a heavily persuaded Debbie but more often on her own, letting slimy men buy her drinks and lean ever closer with their watery ‘conversation’ until they’re practically dribbling down her top, expecting their reward for being so _nice and generous_ , and the second they get too close, grabbing them by the collar and hissing “not in a million years, sleaze-bag.” She loves that hedonistic rush of power, walking away slightly tipsy on gifted drinks and her own self-confidence, imagining the thwarted man behind, angry but unable to not watch her leave. It’s something she does for her fourteen-year-old self.

 

But she’s here, in the Woolpack, watching Doug and Diane age slowly in the corner.

 

She huffs and starts again with the beer mat tower.

 

She has always hated being bored. It just invites uncomfortable thoughts in. If she’s busy, rushed off of her feet with her kids and her family and the pub and whatever hare-brained scheme she’s settled on this week, there’s no room for anything else.

 

This evening, however, she can’t shake that gnawing feeling at the very pit of her stomach, the feeling she’s been trying her level best to ignore for three whole days, ever since Vanessa had stormed out of her bedroom with her jumper on back to front and her messages mixed up like a bloody kaleidoscope. 

 

The feeling has only intensified over time, especially since Vanessa has steadily avoided her, to the point where on two separate occasions yesterday Charity had her coat and shoes on ready to actually go round and _apologise to Vanessa_ (her! Charity! apologise!), her face forced into humble meekness, her words practiced and wheedling. But both times she’s caught herself before she’s reached Vanessa’s house, remembering that she doesn’t actually care, anyway, so she’s swerved into David’s shop and hastily bought milk. And now she has too much milk, and not enough peace of mind.

 

_Because that’s all I want _, she thinks, _peace of mind_. Nothing to do with the guilt that’s sitting in her stomach like a stone or the way she’s heard Vanessa’s ‘fuck you’ in her mind a thousand times since it was spoken aloud. Nothing to do with the echoing sensation of Vanessa’s urgent fingertips at her hips, the memory of her tongue against hers and her tender palm on her cheek, nothing to do with the prospect of losing the opportunity to feel those things again.__

__

___It’s all fine_ , she thinks as she knocks back the dregs of her second glass of wine. People leave all the time, why was she expecting Vanessa to be any different?_ _

__

__Because she _is_ diff-_ _

__

__Someone throws open the door with the force of a raging rhinoceros and it bounces back on its hinges so hard it nearly hits the incoming person in the face._ _

__

__Vanessa’s angry._ _

__

__She practically stomps into the pub, throws herself onto a stool at the far end of the bar growls “pint please.”_ _

__

__Charity, stunned, decides it’s best not to ask._ _

__

__Vanessa doesn’t even give Charity a second glance, although when she turns her back to pull the pint she can feel eyes boring into the back of her head like laser beams._ _

__

__When the drink is placed in front of her, she downs half of it then slams it back onto the table, and Charity has to hold in a laugh, so like Moses is she with her comical frown and hunched shoulders._ _

__

__“Don’t you smirk at me, you-” Vanessa spits at her, the last few words smouldering into ashes on her tongue. Charity raises her eyebrows and holds her hands up in a defensive gesture, moves to wipe the bar. She can her Vanessa muttering under her breath as moves away, though._ _

__

__Vanessa is very angry._ _

__

__No, Vanessa’s fuming. Charity can feel it radiating it off her in hot, blistering waves, like a tropical storm on one of those weather maps._ _

__

__And she’s not going anywhere._ _

__

__—_ _

__

__She slows down once she’s on her second pint, spends almost an hour watching the condensation run down the glass as if she’s melting it with her eyes. She barely responds to Frank’s questions when he comes in with Megan for a drink and eventually he gives up, leaving Vanessa to her silent mood._ _

__

__Charity is filled with curiosity that she does her best to hide, physically biting her tongue against saying something. As evening rolls into night and people slowly begin to file out in ones and twos, she watches Vanessa out of the corner of her eye._ _

__

__If it were anyone else, she’d probably be annoyed. She’s been sat there for more than two hours and she’s only bought two drinks. There’s a wide radius of empty seats surrounding her as other customers have edged slowly away from her scowling. It’s nearing closing time, yet she’s showing no signs of leaving._ _

__

__But Charity’s not annoyed. In the firm set of Vanessa’s jaw, the clench of her slender fingers round the base of the glass, the determination in her eyes, there’s something that Charity can’t quite take her eyes away from, something strangely entrancing. She’s never met anyone so all-consumed by their emotions before. When Vanessa’s sad, she’s _devastated_. When she’s angry, she’s _furious_. When she’s horny, she’s-_ _

__

__Charity smirks at that thought then swallows it down, where it settles to mingle with a large dose of concern she’s deciding consciously to ignore._ _

__

__Doug and Diane finally slink out the pub with a slurred “g’night, Chas,” and Charity goes to collect their glasses, then returns to the bar to look at Vanessa, who is apparently still blissfully unaware of the hour, the emptiness of the pub and the sardonic expression on Charity’s face._ _

__

__She’s hunched over her pint, less blisteringly furious now, more- quietly fuming._ _

__

__“Well?” Charity says after considering her for a second._ _

__

__Vanessa looks up at her, a scowl on her face. Charity feels it swirl in her gut. “Well what?”_ _

__

__Charity rolls her eyes, “we’re closing, Vanessa.”_ _

__

__She looks around her and realises they’re alone, an almost sad realisation sagging in her shoulders. Charity watches her down the dregs of her pint and shrug on her jacket, revealing naked skin at her neck when she sweeps her hair to the side._ _

__

__Vanessa slips off of her stool and rummages in her pocket, fishes out a fiver and a couple of pound coins, tosses them onto the bar._ _

__

__Charity raises her eyebrows and runs it through the till, returns with the change jangling in her fingers. Vanessa takes it, taking great care to avoid contact with Charity’s skin. She stands and looks at her for a long moment, her unhappy frown sat stubbornly on top of her folded arms._ _

__

__About to burst with questions, or worse, the apology she’s had on the tip of her tongue since the other day, Charity bites her lip._ _

__

__“A client asked me out at work this morning,” Vanessa says finally, the words clunking into each other._ _

__

__Charity tips her head back on her neck. That hadn’t been on her list of expectations. “Sorry?”_ _

__

__With a sigh, “this guy, man- bloke asked me out on a date. At work. Today.”_ _

__

__Trying to ignore the discomfort groaning at the pit of her stomach and instead feign nonchalance, Charity leans against one of the beer pumps, watching every muscle in Vanessa’s face. “Did he?”_ _

__

__“Yeah,” Vanessa says, matter-of-factly. She’s watching Charity as closely as Charity is watching her, looking for any sort of tell. “He wants to go for drinks with me, and he wants to have a conversation with me, and potentially sleep with me afterwards. Have sex with me.”_ _

__

__“Well, that is what dates normally entail.”_ _

__

__“Yes, I know that-” she swallows, breathes deeply, long-sufferingly. “He said he’s been wanting to ask me out for ages.”_ _

__

__“Right.”_ _

__

__“And today he finally plucked up the courage to ask me, and he was really sweet about it, and he’s actually really good-looking, he’s a lecturer at the University of Leeds. His dog is a rescue, he really likes children. He lives in Robblesfield, and he has nice shoes-”_ _

__

__“I’m not particularly interested in his wardrobe, Vanessa,” Charity shifts her weight between her legs uncomfortably, nausea in the back of her throat, sweat prickling at her palms._ _

__

__It’s a new sensation, this. Jealousy she knows well, has had it boil in her for Moira and her relationship with Noah, for Zoe and Declan and Tom and their easy money, for anyone with a family home. But she’s never felt jealous of her partners’ partners before, has always been confident enough in her own prowess to worry about people straying from her bed and into someone else’s._ _

__

__And yet everything has felt different with Vanessa. The rules she’s used to playing by suddenly are redundant, and while she could have Mr X. Rich conceding defeat after twenty minutes, Vanessa Woodfield seems to be playing a completely different game, with completely different rules. Charity has found herself having to run to catch up, to follow Vanessa’s moves across a board she doesn’t recognise, feeling caught out at every turn._ _

__

__And not only does she not understand Vanessa, but she also doesn’t understand _herself._ She’s feeling jealous, white hot and burning, of someone she’s never even met over a woman she’s slept with four times._ _

__

__The novelty of it would have her fleeing, if she weren’t too busy looking at the sliver of skin peeking out between the bottom of Vanessa’s coat and the top of her jeans._ _

__

__When she looks up, Vanessa’s watching her, her eyes full of something like anger, but not quite._ _

__

__“So when is this date, then?” Charity’s voice is light, too light, she realises now she can hear herself. She moves round the bar, cloth and disinfectant in hand._ _

__

__Vanessa takes a long time to answer, studying her fingernails determinedly. Eventually she looks up, her face full of ten different emotions Charity couldn’t name, “I said no.”_ _

__

___She said no._ “Why?”_ _

__

__“Because I didn’t want to go out with him.”_ _

__

__Charity tips her head to the side, “why not? He sounds right up your alley. I bet he also owns lots of strange wooly jumpers,” she smirks, nodding to the mustard coloured atrocity clashing horribly with the maroon of Vanessa’s coat. “Why not, then?” She asks again when Vanessa only manages to look slightly peeved, “smelly breath?”_ _

__

__“No, it’s not that.” Vanessa looks like she’s about to either cry or spontaneously combust._ _

__

__But Charity, feeling panicky at the sight of Vanessa’s distress, can’t help but rely on her good old defence mechanism, “I knew it! You _are_ gay!” _ _

__

__Vanessa’s face turns that awful shade of cold from the other night._ _

__

__Charity immediately curses herself, feels that apology swell in her throat again, but Vanessa seems calm, though she can’t meet Charity’s eyes._ _

__

__“It’s not that, either.” Apparently Vanessa’s been doing some soul-searching over the past few days._ _

__

__“Well, what is it?”_ _

__

__Vanessa stamps her foot a little, like she’s reached a cross roads and she doesn’t want to go down either path, but there’s someone pushing at her back._ _

__

__When she speaks, her voice is small and reluctant, and Charity has to step closer to her to hear, “I don’t want to- go out with anyone else.”_ _

__

__Picking up the inference, quivering in simultaneous joy and panic, Charity puts down the cloth and spray, “anyone else- apart from me? Vanessa, I’m not-”_ _

__

__“Looking for commitment, I know,” she says hurriedly, “I just-”_ _

__

__Charity watches Vanessa’s gaze flicker down to her mouth, and she bites her lip seductively. Vanessa’s eyes meet hers, finally full of something Charity recognises, something that warms her low in her belly._ _

__

__“I’m really angry with you,” Vanessa says, “for what you said.”_ _

__

__Charity has the sense to look a bit bashful, even feels that apology rear its horrible righteous head again, and it must work just a little bit because Vanessa steps a bit closer, close enough that Charity can breathe in her perfume. It sends blood rushing round her body in a way that her mind scorns and curses._ _

__

__“And I shouldn’t even be here, not until you’ve apologised or something,” she says, and she sounds so much like a nine year old on the playground after an argument, waiting stubbornly on an apology so she can link arms with her best friend again that it makes Charity smile, which she hurries away quickly with her bashful, sombre expression._ _

__

__She takes a step closer, Vanessa’s coat brushing against her front. “So why are you here, Vanessa?”_ _

__

__Her eyes are round and wide and clear, so clear Charity feels suddenly, for the first time, that she could know her, completely. She watches the tiny details of her face, her blue gaze darting between Charity’s eyes, the twitch in her nose, the tensing and relaxing of a muscle in her jaw. Her face is so readable, so open, flicking through the desire, fear, frustration, confidence and  
desire again._ _

__

__“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she whispers, her voice so quiet, hushed over a trembling lip. Charity feels the admission deep in her core, so intense she almost gasps._ _

__

__Never has she had to utilise so much willpower to stop herself from kissing someone before._ _

__

__“I want-” Vanessa breathes, and Charity feels the words tickle her chin, sending lightening through her bloodstream._ _

__

__“What do you want, ‘Ness?” Charity matches her tone, leaning her head forwards slightly so their noses are practically touching._ _

__

__The air is vibrating between them, an almost tangible force. It burns and trembles in every cell in Charity’s body, and judging by the heat in Vanessa’s cheeks and the way she can’t drag her eyes from Charity’s lips, she’s feeling the same._ _

__

__But just as Charity’s convinced that Vanessa’s going to lean in and close the space between them, just as she’s about to do it herself- so unbearable is the tension and so much is she aching for it, Vanessa takes a shaky step backwards._ _

__

__“I can’t,” she breathes, her voice cracking._ _

__

__And then she’s gone, almost running through the doors out into the street._ _

__

__It’s like a firework going out with a whimper, all the tension and excitement draining from her body and leaving her cold. Charity slumps against the bar, slightly dazed._ _

__

__What the hell just happened?_ _

__

__She knows everything about this, every trick in the book, every possible move and outcome, she’s never not got what she wanted before._ _

__

__And yet it’s the second time in four days that Vanessa Woodfield has run out on her, and the second time she’s left cold, confused, her heart thumping like it could fall out of her chest._ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa pays Charity a visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me so long to finish, I've been such a perfectionist about it and to be honest I'm really not that happy with it, but I wanted to get it out of my drafts folder, and I wanted it to have some sort of resolution.
> 
> I hope you enjoy  
> xx

It’s raining. Not cats and dogs, buckets and buckets raining, but a weak, indecisive sort of drizzle. Vanessa hadn’t brought an umbrella, and now her fringe has decided to disobey all conventional laws of gravity and is curling away in some parts and sticking in others, in a way that she would care about if her head wasn’t so full.

 

That’s the best way to describe it, really. Her head is full. She’s always been an overthinker, she used to pack and repack her schoolbag five times every morning before school in case she’d forgotten something, and even now can spend hours in bed replaying the day’s conversations in her head in case she’s offended someone. But her brain has been running at absolute maximum capacity for five days: she hasn’t slept, she can’t work properly, even Johnny’s little bubbly laugh can’t bring her joy because her head is full of Charity _bloody_ Dingle.

 

It’s like she’s wormed her way in to her brain and is charging around like a pantomime villain, popping up behind every thought of her family, her job, every mundane little step of her brain leading its sorry way back to her. What’s wrong with this puppy? Charity Dingle. What’s the time? Charity Dingle in her underwear. It’s a bit cold outside. _Maybe she’s not getting what she needs._

 

She yells in frustration at that last thought, loudly enough to make her look around in case anyone else overheard, but it’s so miserable outside that she’s the only one making her lonely way to the pub.

 

She’s trodden this path multiple time over the last week, determined to have it out with her, demand explanations, apologies. And every time she’s tried, she loses her nerve and hurries back home with her tail between her legs.

 

Not today, though.

 

This evening, as she was watching Johnny’s attempts at feeding himself sweet potato, and as he was getting most of it everywhere but in his mouth, she came to a decision. 

 

She’s had enough. Like her mother used to say when watching Vanessa recount her school books for the fourth time, one of the only useful things she ever used to say, _what is it you’re actually scared of, Vanessa?_

 

She’s scared of the voracity of her feelings for Charity. The way they’ve taken hold and not let go. And of what those feelings mean for her, for who she is. She’s scared that Charity knows how she feels. She’s scared that she doesn’t know how she feels. She’s scared that Charity doesn’t feel the same way. She’s scared she does. But mostly she’s scared that one day Charity will lose interest and reveal it has all been a game, and that Vanessa has not only lost, but she didn’t realise she was being played.

 

Hovering on the doorstep for a second, she briefly decides to flee, until a gust of motivation, borne mostly from tiredness and a longing to get this all over with, hits her square in the chest and she lunges forward, knocks sharply against the door three times.

 

Immediately she regrets it, but it’s too late now.

 

Remembering her fringe, she presses her hands to her forehead quickly, trying to flatten the unruly bane of her life. She feels suddenly self-conscious, wishes she’d brought an umbrella to protect her hair - what about her mascara? She wishes she’d worn waterproof make up, wishes she’d worn a jumper that didn’t have Johnny’s dinner all over it, wishes she hadn’t come at-

 

“Vanessa?” The door opens, and Charity’s stood in front of her, clad in pyjamas and a dressing gown, hair piled on top of her head like an iced cake, bathed in the warm glow of the hall lamp. 

 

Vanessa gulps, tries to remember how to form words.

 

Charity beats her to it, “it’s almost midnight, what’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” she says anxiously, “can I come in?”

 

With a look of surprise that she hurriedly hides away, Charity moves to the side to let Vanessa in, leaving just enough room so that Vanessa is forced to brush against her, feel her through her thin layers, inhale her scent. 

 

It’s enough to send Vanessa way off course, the purposefulness that had carried her here all but dissolved after only twenty bloody seconds in the presence of Charity Dingle.

 

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room, aimlessly roving her eyes over the chairs and the sofa. Her fists are clammy and clenched, but she doesn’t quite know how to relax them.

 

“Sit down, if you want,” Charity offers, taking her own seat on the arm of the sofa nearest the dresser. She’s annoyingly confident as she gazes over at her, not a scrap of the self-consciousness Vanessa feels prickling on her palms.

 

Vanessa shakes her head, harder than she meant to, “no, thanks, I’m not stopping.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Charity draws her dressing gown tighter round herself, raising her eyebrows and looking at Vanessa expectantly.

 

A shiver runs down her spine at being held in those eyes. The eyes she’s spent days trying _not_ to think about. She avoids looking at them now, stares instead at the hair piled on top of her head, blonde fronds escaping and curling to her ears.

 

“Right, ok,” she breathes in a deep breath. “First of all I’m sorry for shouting at you the other day. And for swearing and storming out, and just for being rude.” 

 

Charity looks taken aback as if that had been the last thing she was expecting. Her eyebrows are furrowed in the middle and she’s staring at Vanessa deeply, trying to see secrets hidden in her eyes. When she realises that Vanessa’s waiting for her to say something, she starts, tips her head back on her neck, “right, OK.”

 

Vanessa pauses, shifting her weight between her feet, uncomfortable.

 

Noticing Vanessa’s discomfort with a soft smirk, Charity tries to explain herself, “seriously, babe, I’ve heard much worse from people a lot meaner and nastier than you and I’ve never had apologies from them, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

 

Vanessa brushes over the patronisation as she hears Charity’s voice quiver with a gloomy laughter, like she notices it often does when she’s making light out of a past demon or dark truth. Vanessa doesn’t know much about Charity’s life but she’s heard rumours. Vague impressive names like Chris Tate and Tom King float around behind her, and she’s been here to witness the madness surrounding her and Declan, her and Cain. But, without knowing what she _is_ determined to be, she’s determined to _not_ be like any of them.

 

“Well, just because they were nastier than me and never apologised doesn’t mean that I don’t have to, Charity. I overreacted, and I’m sorry.”

 

With a look of surprise, and, if Vanessa’s not mistaken, a hint of sadness, Charity acquiesces, “OK. Apology accepted.” Vanessa breathes out a long breath, Charity’s gaze on her skin something physical, a flame.

 

“Well, for what it’s worth, and I’m not big on apologies, Vanessa, by the way, but I’m sorry for saying what I said. Me mouth runs away with itself sometimes, and I really didn’t mean to offend you.”

 

Vanessa gulps over her surprise, nods once, mostly so she doesn’t have to look Charity in the eye. She relaxes a little, shrugs her shoulders slightly. She’s spent the last week turning Charity’s words over and over in her mind, agonised over them. The idea that everyone knew that she was gay apart from her, that everyone had been talking and laughing and calling her names has tortured her. And she’s been burning for an apology from Charity, some admission of guilt, but now she has it, she’s not sure where she should put it.

 

“So, what’s next on your list?” Charity’s voice has reverted to humorous, only this time Vanessa senses that she’s laughing at her.

 

“My list?”

 

“You said ‘first of all’, what’s second?”

 

“Oh, right,” she catches up with herself, flustered. “Well, it’s not really a list, Charity, I just wanted- to clear the air, I suppose.” Her hands hang by her sides, already a little defeated.

 

“Clear the air?”

 

“Yeah- after the other night, I ran out on you- again, I just-” Vanessa falters under Charity’s slightly amused, slightly confused gaze. She hears a clock ticking loudly somewhere behind her, hears her heartbeat thumping loudly in her veins. Charity smirks.

 

Annoyance flickers in her gut alongside the desire, desire that has peaked now Charity’s dressing gown has fallen open slightly and she can see a long sliver of bare skin.

 

“Why did you- what do you want from me?” Vanessa asks in a rush, her words tumbling out over themselves. She feels her face flush, curses that childish knee-jerk reaction to embarrassment, the way Charity notices, smirks.

 

The smirk lasts maybe half a second though, before Charity puts it away in favour of confusion. “What do I want from you?”

 

“Why did you kiss me that night in the cellar?” she clarifies.

 

“Why did I kiss you?”

 

Vanessa rolls her eyes, “are you going to repeat everything- yes, Charity, that’s what I said.”

 

Charity contemplates the question for a long moment, her eyes never leaving Vanessa’s face which only serves to send a warm flush up her neck, but she can’t tear her own eyes away as she watches Charity stand, slowly, and take one step towards her before folding her arms and cocking her head to the side. 

 

“Because I wanted to.”

 

It sounds so simple. Vanessa has spent hour after tormented hour since that first night overthinking every little moment of their time together, what it means for her sexuality, whether Charity actually likes her or is just using her, whether she is reading too much into Charity’s words, whether she’s not reading enough into her actions, what her father thinks, what her sister thinks, what _she_ thinks, what Charity could possibly gain from sleeping with her, mostly, the big one, the humdinger: why the hell is Charity pursuing this?

 

Could it really be as simple as just _wanting_?

 

Charity, as if she can see the cogs turning in Vanessa’s brain and the steam pouring out of her ears with every new thought, smiles softly. It’s a smile she doesn’t wear behind the bar with the punters. It’s a smile that says _it’s ok_ , and _I understand_. It’s gentle and not the Charity she’s used to, but it is one she’s caught glimpses of. It’s the Charity who watches her when she’s coming undone, it’s the Charity who apologised to her the other night, it’s the Charity she feels pull her closer in her sleep. It makes Vanessa’s lungs ache.

 

“Because I wanted _you_ ,” Charity hums, taking another step forward 

 

Which is maybe the most confusing thing of all. Because Vanessa knows she wants Charity. She knows it in the crudest way, feels it physically in her gut, in the dampness of her underwear and the stickiness of her palms. And she knows it in the way she finds her mind wandering towards the pub when she’s between clients at work, the way tall, blonde, suited women send her mind spinning back to the cellar, the way she wakes in the morning, head full of half remembered dreams of the hazy nights spent in Charity’s bedroom.

 

She’s considered every possible reason for Charity wanting to sleep with her. She’s some project, proof that Charity’s superpower really is turning women gay, she’s a way to get back at Frank for whatever it is he’s supposed to have done, she’s a plaything until the next bigger, more powerful fish swims along.

 

But the idea that Charity _wanted_ to, that it really is as pure and simple as desire - she hadn’t allowed herself to consider that for longer than a single, daringly hopeful second.

 

It’s there now, though, in screaming letters, Charity’s breath hot against the side of her face, Vanessa’s nose filled with the scent she’s found herself hugging tight on her pillows on the nights after Charity leaves.

 

Charity takes Vanessa’s right hand in her left, brushing her thumb over her knuckles. Slowly, deliberately, her eyes not leaving Vanessa’s, she moves their joined hands underneath the loosening tie of her dressing gown, slipping them underneath the elastic of her pyjama bottoms. She pauses, gazing searchingly into Vanessa’s face, the green seeking permission in the blue. Vanessa is holding her breath, her mind three steps behind her body.

 

“I _want_ you,” Charity breathes, and Vanessa can feel her breath brush over her cheek as she guides her hand lower down, and her fingers slide against slick heat.

 

She is very, very wet.

 

It’s easily the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to Vanessa. For a moment, her mind clouds over with emotion, with questions about yesterday and tomorrow and what this all means. But as she moves her fingers slightly and Charity bites her lip in response, there is suddenly no room in Vanessa’s brain for anything but the feel of Charity against her.

 

Even without her heels, Charity is taller than her in a way that makes Vanessa’s chest throb, she looks up into the green eyes and lets herself see the openness in them. Because, apart from a flicker of lust, that’s all she can see.

 

Maybe it really is as simple as wanting.

 

Her stomach swooping with courage, Vanessa turns them round and backs Charity into the wall, starts to move against her more purposefully, slowly, deliberately.

 

She feels herself start to become lightheaded, lightheaded from the power of it, the way every slight movement of her fingers produces a mirror reaction from Charity, whose breath is ragged against Vanessa’s rain-damp fringe, her hands clutching at her arms, her neck, tangling in her hair as the pace picks up. 

 

“Say that again,” the words seem to fall out of Vanessa’s mouth without her really meaning to say them. It thrills her to feel so daring and instinctive, to say the sorts of things people say in the sort of films she never found herself enjoying, to feel the blind, overwhelming desire people talk about and she assumed she’d never find.

 

Charity smiles through her breathiness, a slow, cat-who-got-the-cream kind of smile, a smile that Vanessa knows she will spend a long time thinking about.

 

She leans down, her spine curved, her hair tickling Vanessa’s ear. Briefly she takes her earlobe between her teeth, making Vanessa moan indecently. When she speaks, her voice is low and breathy, the vibrations shivering down Vanessa’s neck, down her spine and sending goosebumps across her skin.

 

“I want you.”

 

A rush of hedonistic power spreads through Vanessa’s limbs, and she has to fight the urge to close her eyes because she wants to watch Charity’s face. She wants to watch the flickering of that muscle in her neck, the clench of her jaw, the way she can elicit such beautiful responses, their bodies saying what words can’t.

 

She dips her hand lower, deeper, and Charity’s hands clench round Vanessa’s arm, her eyes flickering shut as her head tips back in response, a guttural moan travelling up the lengthening of her throat and landing solidly between Vanessa’s thighs.

 

It’s like nothing she’s ever felt before.

 

And she realises that this, _this_ , is what she’s been missing.


End file.
